Injustice: Merceneries among us - Test of Friendship
by ReptilesTheme
Summary: The evil that once threatened Mars has come to Earth, and together the mice and Charley battle to save Chicago from its biggest threat yet. Friendships are formed and a relationship blooms, only to have it all wiped out by a cruel and violent act betrayal. (Complete REWRITE from first story - started when the mice and Charley meet). Rating will up to M at later stage. Throttle/Char
1. Prologue

Hi Everyone,

This is short prologue to set some things straight before launching into the story. I was watching the "Test of Friendship" episode with my son when this story came to me. I thought about it some, and realized that, with some tweaks, this would actually make a much better "Part 1" for my Injustice trilogy. Hence no updates on the second part of that story, because of this rewrite.

So when reading, take the following into account:

I am not doing any introductions of the mice. Assumptions are you know who they are, what they look like and their backstory. If you don't, you are too young to be reading an "M" rated story in this category anyway.

There will be an upsetting scene in this story, and Vinnie fans will hate me for it. I won't reveal the nature of it, so as not to reveal spoilers, but in my opinion things would have gotten way more out of hand if a hostility ray is involved than what that episode showed.

I've changed the way the mice met Charley, to fit in with the later part of the story. I also tried to make the aliens crashing to earth without being noticed part more believable, as well as how they were able to speak English and so forth.

English is not my first language, and I was unable to find a beta, so please keep this in mind when reviewing.

Flames and criticism are welcome, but for Pete's sake: don't nitpick. If I mention Vinnie being 5, 4 when he really is 5, 7 – let it go, it's not important. I work off memory and a few fuzzy episodes, and I don't think I'm doing too badly. And often I want something to be slightly different from the story, for my story's purposes.

Video gamers might recognize aliens and names from games such as Mass Effect, Dragon Age and Skyrim. I am terrible at using my imagination to think up original names for creatures and aliens, and thought that since these already exist and look and act awesome, I would use these. If they do pop up, I own nothing of Bioware and Bethesda Studios.

This story is rated M for good reasons. It will be smutty, violent and maybe a choice word or two. After all, these are biker dudes and a mechanic girl, adults, they are all single and often thrusted into some seriously hair raising situations.


	2. Chapter 1 - This is Earth

Chapter One

"Hey Throttle, watch me blow past that slow poke from Tuchanka!"

The white mouse pointed a muscular arm towards a flat screen mounted above the steering pit of the space ship. He howled as an image of him on his cherry red racer speeding past the hulking form of a Krogan came into view. "Yeehaa, that's me! I'm the baddest motorcycle mamma-jamma in the universe." He slapped Throttle on the back, knocking him almost off the pilot seat.

Throttle adjusted his bio-shades. "Modest too", he quipped, laughing nonetheless at his younger friend's jovial antics.

This was their first real break away since they'd gotten some shore leave from the Freedom Fighter Army, and was looking forward to spending a few days in outer space, pretending their planet was not in the grips of a crippling war with the Plutarkians over critical resources. They were drifting in the direction of earth, taking care to stay out of the prying beams of the human's satellites. They did not have the man power to support another war, should the Terrans discover that there is in fact life on the red planet, and decide to attack.

Modo, the eldest and biggest of the three mice, leaned back and popped open a can of Martian ash yam beer.

"This is living!" he grinned. "Nothin' to do but rockin' and rollin' and racing through the cosmos." He leaned back. "We got absolutely no…"

The thundering sound of an explosion cut him short. The ship shuddered, knocking all three bro's off their seats. The Cyclodrone Thunderpipe lurched, and Throttle disengaged the autopilot to try and stabilize it.

"Somebody out there doesn't like us". He punched a few buttons to scan the perimeter of the ship.

"Yea well 'somebody' looks a lot like Plutarkians." Modo wrinkled his nose in disgust and pointed at the massive Plutarkian ship coming up the Cycledrone's rear, blocking out the view they had of Earth. "I can almost smell them from here."

"Looks like we crossed one of their destroyers!" Vinnie could barely contain his excitement. Never one to miss out on an opportunity to get in on some action, he was practically salivating at the mouth.

"Vape 'em!" Throttle instructed.

Vinnie didn't need to be told twice. He picked up his bazooka and headed for the ship's door. "One fish-faced barbeque coming up!"

He stepped out the door to take aim at the enemy ship not far out, but the Plutarkians, having anticipated the move, was faster and with a quick blast of its twin lasers blew the white mouse off his feet, sending the bazooka flying into space. Throttle slammed the door shut, preventing another volley of lasers hitting his bro full on.

"Vincent, it works better if you shoot BEFORE the weapon flies out the door!" Throttle shook his head, fighting with the controls of the ship. Smoke was filling the cabin and the dashboard was a disco of flashing lights and shrilling alarms. The three suddenly realized that the lush greens and blues of Earth's silhouette were getting bigger and bigger….which only meant one thing.

"Oh mama, what are we gonna do?" Modo slammed the equalizer button repeatedly with his metal fist, but the button didn't even blink.

"That's easy…we're going down!" Throttle gave up fighting the controls.

Vincent practically danced on his seat. "You mean imminent destruction?! What a rush!" he cried.

Throttle looked over at his older bro. "Modo, get 'em ready to eject. We need to get this bird into open area – we don't want any casualties bro's."

Despite his youngest brother's maniacal reaction to the ship plunging to the planet below, the grey mouse realized that they were in serious trouble. His good eye caught the flickering radar screen.

"Or risk being discovered" Modo shouted over the screaming engines and alarms sounding throughout the cabin. "Get ready bro's, this is not gonna be a soft landing!" Modo flipped a few switches on the console, and a door slid open behind them, revealing their waiting, AI-controlled bikes. They ran to their bikes, strapping pistols and grenades along the way.

Throttle flipped his helmet on.

"Guys, let me tell you something. In this wild and wooly universe of ours there're only three things you can count on: Your brains, your bro's and your bike! Helmets on!" His visor slammed shut, and he gunned the bike towards the exit.

The mice knew they only had a small window of opportunity after the ship entered the atmosphere before it would catch fire and crash - they would need to have their timing perfect.

The ship lurched again as it entered earth's atmosphere, dropping burning debris as it sped along its path to the surface below.

"Activate your barriers, bro's!" Biotic barriers to shield them from the flames engaged around all three bro's. They were long past the point where they knew exactly when they would hit. Throttle pointed his laser pistol and took a shot at the door console. The door creaked open, revealing the fast approaching ground beneath.

"Ready….hold it…NOW!" Throttle shouted, and the bro's gunned their bikes, riding into open air blind, rockets firing to keep them from plunging any further.

"Do Martians want to be discovered by humans? Because THIS is how we'll get discovered by humans!" Vinnie howled, revving the red bike's engine to increase the torque. The bikes slammed down onto a rooftop surface of a tall building, and the bro's watched in awe as the ship headed for what seemed to be a packed sports field.

"Oh mamma!" Modo cried out, staring helplessly at the fireball hurtling towards the crowd.

Suddenly, by some miracle, the burning ship lurched again, changing its course and sending it crashing straight into the scoreboard of the field, exploding in a brilliant display of colours and whistles.

Throttle sighed in relief. With any luck, no human civilian was hurt, although damage to public property was not exactly a way to introduce one's self to a new, very-suspicious-of-strange-things race. He blew out his breath and looked down to punch in the code to contact the base back on Mars and waited for the beep tone connecting him. Nothing happened.

That's when he realized: They were on a strange planet, with no ship and no way to contact home.

He dropped his head onto the bike's handle bars.

"Shit" he muttered.

"_Authorities have branded the investigation of the crash site as 'at a sensitive stage' and have yet to release a formal statement on the event and the aircraft involved. No bodies have been found. Speculation is rife that this might have been an out of control weather balloon from the nearby air base. Quigley field management advised that the scoreboard will be repaired as soon as the investigation has been completed. This is Chantel Parry for KWTY evening news."_

Charley glanced at the television set from where she was working on a bike that had long since seen better days. She threw down the wrench she was using to loosen a rusty nut, and glanced out the window towards the score board. It was no longer smoldering from the crash 5 days before.

"Weather balloon my ass." She thought, and turned away to close the roller door and call it a day, flipping the "closed" sign to the front. The old bike could wait until tomorrow. She was looking forward to a quiet night in bed, with a bag of pretzels and a movie or two.

A quiet life, just the way she liked it.


	3. Chapter 2 - A chance meeting

Chapter 2

Vincent threw down his half-eaten sandwich in disgust.

"Man, I am so over this crap!" He crumpled the food into the paper wrapper and launched it towards a rubbish bin, landing it neatly in the middle of the trash can.

"I feel you bro, but right now we don't have much of a choice." Throttle was chewing his own sandwich slowly, trying not to think of the fact that it a) was retrieved from a rubbish bin and b) had some cheesy substance on it. He hated cheese. Almost as much as he hated the Plutarkians.

"We need to come up with a plan until this mess is sorted out. We can be as careful as we want, but 3 6ft+ bikers skulking around at night are bound to raise some suspicion." Modo crunched the Pepsi can in his fist. "Nothing on the comm-link yet?"

Throttle shook his head. "Dead as a sand squid on Freedom day. By now Stoker would have realized something is wrong. The tracker on the ship should point them in the right direction at least."

Beside him, Vinnie gave a little cough.

"What?" Throttle eyed him suspiciously.

"Yeah….about that tracker…" Vinnie said sheepishly.

Throttle stared at him through narrowed eyes. "What about it, Vincent?"

"I may have….switched it off."

"You did WHAT?!" The grey and tan mice roared in unison.

"We were supposed to be on SHORE LEAVE! I just wanted a day or two without Carbine barking orders in my ear!" Vinnie clapped his mouth shut, realizing that silence would be better given the current circumstances. It's bad enough that he switch the tracker off; bad mouthing Throttle's ex, who he may or may not still carry a torch for, was never a good idea.

"So you shut off the one chance we had to get off this goddamn planet?" Throttle was exasperated. "Of all the stunts you have pulled, this one fucking takes the cake!" Throttle flung his food back in the rubbish. "Cheeses, Vinnie! "

Modo's eye glowed red and he took a step towards the smaller white mouse.

"Whoa there big guy! Look, I know I made a mistake, but who gets us out of these sticky situations every time?" Vinnie laughed nervously. "Yours truly of course! This time….."

"Only it's "yours truly" that gets us INTO those sticky situations in the first place!" Throttle threw his hands up in the air.

"Okay, okay…wait. I got us into this mess; I will get us out – tracker or no tracker."

"No, Vincent, you will do nothing. In fact, you have done enough. I need time to think this through." Throttle dragged his fingers through his hair, not even attempting to hide his annoyance.

"Nothin' much we can do now, what's done is done." Modo was still annoyed. "We need to find proper shelter first and then decide what our next move is going to be. And food. I ain't eating out of the bin again. Oh mama, Stoker is going to be furious when he hears how we messed up the scoreboard."

Vinnie rolled his eyes.

"That wasn't exactly our fault, was it? Besides, according to this paper, ball season is over so it's not like they'll be using the scoreboard…"

"That's it!" Throttle's head snapped up from the crumpled piece of newspaper he pulled out of the trash can. "The scoreboard! We can hide out at the scoreboard!"

"But…they will be fixing it. So how do we hide there if it's crawling with humans?" Modo tried not to sound too hopeful.

"I'll go scout the place. It's night, so I doubt anyone will be there. If it's end of season I don't see why they would bother fixing that board anytime soon. Vincent, you find us a place to sleep. The alleyway is too public. See it as atonement for your stupidity with the tracker."

Vinnie didn't dare protest, knowing he got off pretty lightly. He walked over to his bike.

"Wanna go check out some new digs, sweetheart?" The bike beeped in agreement. "Then let's ride!"

He sped off; leaving his two bro's shaking their heads.

Throttle rode in the direction of the scoreboard, taking care to stay out of sight and on the back roads. The past five days had been hard on the mice, who had seen their share of hardship in the war. Their alien status meant that venturing out during the day was out of the question, as their sheer size alone made them noticeable, not to mention the bikes and the little detail of having long, prehensile tails. Food had been scarce and much to their disgust had to be scrounged from trash cans and dumps. Shelter was mostly alley ways and sewer pipes. Even if the scoreboard proved to be a good hiding spot, procuring basic necessities will still prove challenging, since employment was out of the question, and they had no Earth currency on them to speak of and no way to acquire any. They were in serious trouble, and that did not include the fact that they had no way to contact home. The bikes didn't escape the crash lightly, and needed some work done. They had fixed what they could themselves, but an expert hand was required for some of the finer detail.

He turned a corner, towards a more seedier part of town, not failing to notice the many derelict buildings that lined the streets. Some had clearly been abandoned for years, while others look relatively newly demolished/damaged.

His bike suddenly beeped, and started slowing down. Throttle cursed under his breath. The last thing he needed was a break down in the middle of nowhere, in a city he that is unfamiliar to him. He carefully pulled over to the side off the road, and a quick once over confirmed his worst fear.

"Busted gyro" he muttered. Great, just what he needed. He exhaled slowly and glanced around him, trying to think of a solution.

A splash of colour amidst the depressing buildings suddenly caught his eye and he pushed his bike towards it, stopping in front of a store of some kind. The building was old, but stood sturdy amongst the crumbling buildings. He looked up to the dark sign mounted above two massive roller doors.

"_Last Chance Garage" _he read out loud, and a small spark of excitement ignited in his chest when he saw the motor cycle insignia on the sign. A motorcycle garage!

He checked the street for movement and saw none. He dismounted and walked towards the front of the building, before checking his watch. _02:30 am_. No one would be here now. The thought of breaking into someone else's property galled him, but he had no choice. He needed his bike fixed. A slight movement and the loud bang of a falling trashcan lid around the back of the building caught his attention, and he walked that way, hand poised on his laser pistol. He sighed in relief when he noticed the small animal scavenging from the bin. What did the humans call it? Dag? Dog? He relaxed, looking around the back of the building and then back to the furry animal again. It looked up from its scavenged meal, focusing on something behind him. Too late Throttle realized his mistake of dropping his guard, and his hand still flew to his gun.

"Don't."

A female voice. Human. And the cold tip of what must be a pistol pressing between his shoulder blades.

"_Shit_" he thought.

"Your boss is having you do late night visits now? Pity he didn't warn you about not making such a racket when trespassing on MY property. Take off the helmet, put your hands up and turn around." The owner of the voice was clearly annoyed. Weren't human woman scared of strange men on their propert? A tug on his gun belt and he was relieved of his pistol, setting aside any notion that he would be dealing with a potentially hysterical female.

"Boss?" Throttle was confused and trying to think fast. He could kick himself for being so careless. This is the type of thing Vinnie would get himself into.

"Did you not hear me, buster? Helmet, hands and TURN AROUND!" The cold metal jammed just a little more into his back. His hands shot up.

Okay okay, calm down, lady! I'll do it, but….no screaming okay?…or crying…or whatever it is you huma….women do."

The girl gave an unladylike snort. She sounded young, but never having even seen a real human up close, let alone talk to it, it was impossible to guess her age.

"Scream? Why would I scream? You seem to be forgetting I'm the one with the gun here!"

"Well, let's just say I might not be what you are expecting…"

"Oh please, if you've seen one goon you've seen 'em all".

He could practically hear her roll her eyes at him. He was running out of options fast. Vincent would charm his way out of this one. Heck, what does he have to lose?

"I bet those you've seen don't come close to my unique and….ruggedly handsome looks." He winced at the corniness of the statement. Nice one Throttle, way to get the lady swooning at your feet. He could kick himself. Vincent made it look so EASY.

The woman snorted in a very unladylike fashion. "I have yet to see anything handsome come from Stink Face's tower."

Throttle saw his gap, and took it. If his kind was about to be discovered, it might be to their benefit to dispel any hostility from the start. He would think up another plan as soon as he has better control of the situation, out of the public eye and gun pointing anywhere but his back.

"I have no idea who this "Stink Face" is, but if he is competition for me to take a lovely lady such as yourself out on a date, I would say challenge accepted!" Throttle held his breath in anticipation.

The girl's exasperation was nearly palpable.

"Wait, are you seriously FLIRTING with me?"

"Just making polite conversation, mam." he backtracked. He was no charmer, and his attempts at sweet talking the woman only seemed to aggravate her more. "You know what they say about having good manners."

"No I don't, and if your boss thought sending his clown captain to flirt me into signing my place over would work, he was sorely mistaken and definitely running out of options. Now, take off the helmet!"

Throttle knew his goose was cooked. At worst the girl would scream and faint, at best she would scream and run away. Or shoot him. Either way there would be screaming of some kind.

_Well, here goes._

He pushed his visor button, lifted the helmet off his head and turned around.


	4. Chapter 3 - Something New

Chapter 3

A/N: CHANGE - I had to replace Vinnie with Throttle to make the third part of this series work, and somehow I always felt a Throttle/Charley pairing was more believable than a Vinnie/Charley one. So might be worth giving Chapter 2 another read.

Charley tightened her grip on the pistol, glad to notice that her voice sounded much more confident that she felt. Sending goons to her place this time of the night (or morning) was a new one for Limburger. She has never seen this one, so he had to be a new recruit. He was different from the previous lot Limburger came up with. Limburger had never been selective of who he employed, and she often gagged at the rank stench of his goons, many of whom could hardly hold a gun, let alone fire it. For the most part they were cussing, ill-mannered and loud. She had always been able to beat them off because she heard them coming long before they arrived. This one was different. He was much taller than most, easily over 6 feet tall and spoke softly and precisely. He smelled of leather and something else she could not place. Not your average Limburger goon, which made her more suspicious and slightly fearful. She wasn't sure what to expect, but when the man turned around everything she ever thought she knew, changed in an instant.

Throttle heard the girl inhale sharply, but kept his eyes trained on the gun. He did not expect this to go well, and wanted to at least try and dodge the bullet when the woman decided to start shooting.

"You're….a mouse." the woman said slowly.

'Yes, Ma'am. A mouse." Throttle confirmed.

"A mouse?!"

Throttle shifted. Was she deaf?

"Yes, a mouse." He repeated. "From Mars."

"Mars? A mouse from Mars?" The woman dropped the pistol to her side in surprise.

"A mouse, from Mars. Shot down by Plutarkians 5 days ago. We have no way back, and I need my bike fixed. I'm Throttle by the way. I would shake your hand but…..you know." He gestured with his head towards his still-raised hands.

"Wait, are you saying you're an alien? Not one of Stink Face's goons?" the girl's initial shock seemed to have subsided.

"Alien yes. Goon, no."

He jerked in surprise when the girl suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the open door behind them. She shoved him inside the building before slamming the door shut and switching the light off, leaving the room bathed in a soft glow emitted by a lamp in the far corner. The room seemed to stretch almost the width of the block and a massive roller door was visible on the far side of the room. Shelves and work benches were lined with the walls and the scent of motor oil permeated the air.

She caught him looking at her quizzically.

"You're an alien and the CIA hasn't shown up yet. My guess is the authorities don't know you are here?"

Throttle shook his head.

Charley slumped down onto an empty motor oil barrel and shook her head.

"This…is a lot to take in. Aliens…Mars…" her head snapped up. "Earlier…you said 'we'. There are more of you?"

Throttle lowered his hands, careful not to make too sudden moves.

"My bro's. Well, not blood bro's, but close enough. Modo and Vinnie."

"And where are they now?"

"Scouting for a place to sleep until nightfall. We can't exactly be seen in public."

Charley nodded absentmindedly. Throttle decided that the worst threat was over. If the woman was going to shoot him, she would have done so by now.

"Look, Ma'am. I need my bike fixed. I think the gyro's busted. I…eh….don't have cash though. I can't pay you now but…."

"Charley."

Throttle blinked.

"What?"

"My name is Charley." The girl got up and opened the roller door entrance of the garage. "Bring your bike so I can take a look."

Throttle didn't know what surprised him most, her skill as a wrench jockey or the fact that his temperamental bike allowed Charley to tinker with her innards. Martian AI bikes were well known for not liking strangers handling them, but in this case the bike actually seemed to enjoy the girl working on her. Once Charley had gotten over the wonder of an AI bike, she started on the gyro, and from there fixed everything that was damaged during the crash, using the time to get the full story behind the crash and how he ended at her garage.

This was Throttle's first encounter with a real, live human and despite the rocky start, he was pleasantly surprised. Charley was well spoken, and seemed to try hard to get her head around having a giant, man-mouse in her garage. She was pretty as well. Not as pretty as some of the human girls he saw on television on Mars, but close enough. Her auburn hair trailed past her shoulders, and she had alert green eyes that he suspected did not miss much. He was taken aback by how short she was, barely reaching his chest. Humans did not seem this small in any of the shows they saw back on Mars. Her skin was what intrigued him most. It was furless, but not slick like a Plutarkian's and not scaly like a Krogan's. It was dry and soft from the looks of it. He was dying to touch it, but pushed the urge down, realizing that it might be too intimate a gesture for someone who had no clue that life outside of her planet existed until an hour ago. He was so engrossed in studying her, that he did not hear her speak to him.

"Throttle."

He jerked out of his reverie.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"I said, you speak English well." She looked at him questioningly.

Throttle shrugged. "Most Martians speak English as well as any humans, at least I think so. Aside from the physical differences, we are not that much different."

Charley raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay. We rely a lot on Earth technology and culture on Mars. We obviously have our own stuff going, but….circumstances have made some things like producing TV shows and music and so forth…..difficult, for lack of a better word. So we stream whatever we can from you, being much closer to you than we are to Jupiter. Hence the English and being familiar with most human customs."

"Circumstances?"

Throttle was quiet for a few seconds. "My planet is at war with another race, the Plutarkians. For years they have pillaged our resources, to the point where there is hardly anything left but dust and craters. Most of the population was wiped out or shipped off to Plutarkian prison camps. Not only did we lose our planet, but also our culture. Every single willing and able mouse that could be spared was drafted to the army, and things like entertainment and TV shows and music were forgotten. It seemed frivolous in a time when our very existence depended on fighting for constant survival. Generations were wiped out, leaving gaping holes in our society. We only realized too late. So we streamed from your satellites via airwaves. It was risky, but restored a sense of normalcy to those of us that was left." He cleared his throat and looked away. Talking about his planet's devastation was never easy."

"That is terrible! These Plutarkians, you say they invaded your planet? Stole your resources? Like water and mining?"

Throttle nodded. "Even regular soil. Everything. They demolished and ruined everything that made Mars the glorious lady she once was. Then one day they started getting less and less. The war is still ongoing, but there has been a change and we haven't been able to pin-point what it is exactly. Speculation is rife they may have moved on to…." Throttle noticed Charley had gone very pale. "Are you okay?"

"I think I know where these Plutarkians went."

Charley pushed a button on the wall opposite the section where she was fixing his bike, and the massive roller door on the far side started opening automatically. What he saw took Throttles breath away, and a sense of dread washed over him at the familiar scene of utter devastation in front of him. He came from the front of the garage earlier, and because the garage stretched the width of the block, this view was obscured when he arrived here. Ruined buildings lined the street behind the garage, with parked bulldozers and mounds of dirt littering the streets. This was Mars all over again.

Charley's green eyes were big in her pale face.

"They're here."

A/n: As stated before, I am telling my own story here. Sticking to canon characters, but trying to answer some of the many questions I had after watching the pilot episode and throughout the series (how come they spoke English etc.)


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